| In a tenement near the Henry Hudson River
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| From my favorite spot on a rusting fire escape
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| I would look below.
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| And see Mario
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| Braving the ferocious dandelions
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| Mario, our fearless superintendent
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| Kept the garden green, despite the parkway smog
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| But the flowering weeds
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| Their fates decreed
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| Pulled, to keep his rosebush from dying
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| Then I would creep inside, curl up in my bed
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| Something strong was pulling at my head
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| Pulling at my heart
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| Wild flower, growing in all the wrong places
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| Wild flower, so lonely? |
| neath that lovely rose bush
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| Proper garden’s nightmare, queen of opened fields
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| Tell me, who will love this wildflower
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| For exactly what she is?
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| Years passed by, we left that red brick building
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| Left Mario behind
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| For a brand new house
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| But my dark brown skin
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| On the white washed walls within
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| Stood out, so it’d get me up and cryin'
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| My growing pains had many rooms to fill, then
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| Mother never know
|
| .Had a garden to keep clean
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| While there was NY grease
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| On her young flower from the Middle East
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| She was busy pulling dendelions
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| Then I would creep inside, curl up in my bed
|
| Something strong was pulling at my head
|
| Pulling at my heart
|
| Wild flower, growing in all the wrong places
|
| Wild flower, so lowly? |
| neath that lovely rosebush
|
| Proper garden’s nightmare, queen of opened fields
|
| Tell me, who will love this wildflower
|
| For exactly what she is? |